The Madness of Peldath
by El Stormo
Summary: This is an old one that I'd forgotten about completely. It's more of a Daggerfall one than a Morrowind one but don't let that stop you!


**The Madness of Peldath**

I still remember the look on his face when he crashed into my study. Sure, he had always been a strange fellow, but I still remember that what I felt when I saw his eyes that day was more than eccentricity. I was afraid - not of him, but of what he might do and what he might cause himself. And I was right to be. Despite his strangeness he was my friend, and to this day I still grieve for what afflicted him, and what became of him - locked away in a dank, dilapidated mansion in Phrygias, with only his fellows and the ruffians who call themselves attendants to accompany him. But I'm probably better off telling the story from the beginning.

It was on the seventh of Hearthfire, the day before the feast of Tales and Tallows, and Peldath stormed into my study, wide eyed and red with excitement. As I said, he had always been a trifle strange, but on that day he seemed stricken with such zeal that the wildness in his eyes struck a sense of foreboding in my heart - something I should have paid heed to. "I've got it, Tarlyn!" he half-shouted. Of course I told him to calm down, but he paid me no heed and sat on the opposite side of my desk, knocking over the pot of ink in his fervour. "I'll see her! At last!"

At first I had no idea of whom he was talking, because Peldath was one of those types who fell in love with everything that had long hair and wasn't a Nordish barbarian. But I should have known then, I realize now. He continued, his voice far more loudly than was comfortable, "I've been trying to reach her for so long, and now is the time! They say that love always finds a way, and I fancy it to be true now! I finally have all the gold I need and tomorrow, I will see my love at last!". I told him to slow down, but, naturally, it was to no avail. He simply rambled on about how true love could overcome all limitations and how happy he would be to finally be with his love and ascend to heaven with her. I was afraid something had really snapped in him, but I didn't know much more would snap in him the next day. He stormed out of my study, forgetting the book he had brought under his arm. In his excitement he had tossed it on my desk, and instead of pursuing him, which I know would be in vain, I picked up the book, in hopes of learning more about his mad plan.

The book was called _Customs and Holidays of Tamriel_ and as soon as I saw the title on the cover I realized that tomorrow was the feast of Tales and Tallows. I didn't need to check the book, for I knew the nature of this feast. It was the feast when many necromancers came to the library asking for tractates and works concerning their art. And, as the chief librarian, it was always my duty to approve or disapprove a wizards petition for a particular work. I immediately assumed that Peldath was planning on raising the dead. He must have fallen in love with a painting of a woman long dead, or something of that nature. I knew Peldath was an avid reader of historical works, and he always came to the library asking for stories and legends of the past, which was how we became friends. Perhaps he had done so this time as well.

So I went, late that night, to the library to view the list of the most recently accessed works. As the chief librarian, it was a privilege I had. The works Peldath had perused lately were indeed of historical nature, but some concerned folklore and superstition. It was not like him to pay any heed to superstition, but perhaps he had been reading it because of its historical significance. I pondered his behavior and his babble as I sat, in the dark and silent library, with only one candelabre burning to illuminate my papers, and the books I was browsing through to find that one picture of the woman who had entranced Peldath simply by being rendered in inks. I was thinking and reading so zealously I didn't even feel sleep approaching.

I awoke the next day when a clerk found me, early in the morning, with my head on the list of recently accessed works. Immediately I thought of Peldath and realized that whatever plan he had, it would be harmful, to him and most likely to his environment as well. Still convinced he was attempting to bring a woman back from the dead, I gathered my parchments and strode to the Mages Guild as fast as my legs (and my dignity) would allow. Indeed, the guard at the door informed me, for my name was usually enough to loosen the tongues of most people affiliated with scholars and mages, Peldath was present, and he was attempting some sort of ritual.

"Tarlyn!" he shouted, wild with excitement when he saw me stride through the hallway. "Have you come to see love in all its glory? Have you come to witness as I unite with the one I worship?" But then he observed my stern bearing and he fell quiet, watching me suspiciously. "No Peldath," I said gravely. "I've come to ask you to stop this madness." "Madness!" Peldath shouted. "Well Tarlyn, if seeking love is madness then I am as insane as a Centaur! And, might I add, if finding someone to love is insane, then you are the sanest person in High Rock!"

I was gravely offended by his words, for my loneliness and the fact that I had never been married was something I rued every day, and Peldath knew this. "Very well," I tried to say as coldly as possible, but I remember I tried to keep my lip from trembling. "If you wish to be torn apart by a mad revenant, then I shall leave you to your devices!" Peldath looked at me, genuinely startled. "Revenant! Tarlyn, have you lost your mind? It's not my plan to raise a woman from the dead! Do you know what day it is?" "Certainly," I said, not without a trace of arrogance, "The feast of Tales and Tallows, when necromancers and black spellweavers summon spirits and bodies long dead to life once more!"

Peldath shrieked with laughter. "Tarlyn, for all your wisdom you are sometimes the biggest dolt I know. Haven't you read the book I left on your desk?" So he had left it there intentionally. I didn't understand. "No," I said slowly. He laughed again. I should have felt relieved, but I didn't. "Tarlyn, you fool! Today is more than a feast for the dead! Today the stars align in the sign of Nocturnal, the Lady of Shadows!" My mouth fell open.

"You are planning to _summon _Her!" I stammered. Peldath looked through the window wistfully and then said quietly, "Tarlyn, she is more beautiful than any man can imagine. Ever since I saw her painting by Gorzl the Bleak it was impossible for me not to think of her. She is all I wish for in this life, and if I may but carress her once, I would forfeit the rest of my existence." His voice grew louder and fevered again. "And she will see me, see the rapture in my eyes and take me with her to the Heavens! We shall be joined for eternity! She cannot refuse any who desire her so, even if they are mere mortals! This is my destination Tarlyn! This is what I must do, the calling I must answer! And the very stars will shift to form the image of our embrace!"

"So you see," he continued, "I have no plan whatsoever to summon the dead shell of a mere mortal woman. I would be quite mad to have that wish." I couldn't believe what I heard. "Yes," I replied sarcastically, though the humour of the situation had eluded me utterly, "_that_ would be foolish." I decided to at least warn him against the dangers of Daedra Summoning. "Peldath... you _do_ know that summoning Daedra Princes is dangerous, don't you?" Peldath's eyes lit up. "Yes!" he shouted ecstatically. "Yes I know! And a good thing it is too, for when Nocturnal beholds me, she'll know I braved all the dangers Oblivion cares to throw at me!"

This was not the way to go, so I tried reasoning with him another way. Clearly telling him about the dangers would make him feel even more heroic. I needed to explain him that the summoner often didn't even summon the Prince or Princess he sent his calling to. Perhaps that would persuade him. "Peldath," I began again, this time taking all the effort I could to stay calm. "Even when the summoning itself succeeds and is not, as is likely the case, a failure which results in the annihilation of the summoner, it must still be answered. And Nocturnal may not be the one to do it." Peldath's eyes narrowed. I was getting through to him. "What do you mean?" he asked. "I mean that sometimes other creatures answer the summons. Other Princes, or other dwellers of Oblivion, sometimes get there first."

Peldath went into a frenzy again and ran toward the door, where the summoning pentagram was already etched into the ground, and toward his eventual death of the mind. I ran after him and grabbed him by the shoulder, but he turned surprisingly quickly and the next thing I knew, I was sitting on the ground, holding my bloody nose. Peldath screamed to me before he slammed the door. "Fool! Even if it's Mara herself, I will spit on her and proclaim my love for the Lady of Shadows, for I shall be content with none other! No matter what comes through that gate, I will defy it and damn the consequences!"

I slammed my fists against the door, but he would not open. As I felt what was left of my hair standing on end, I knew he had done it. He had opened the gate to Oblivion. I backed away, stricken with fear, but I didn't hear a sound coming from behind the door. I stood, paralyzed with fear, sweat running down my back. At length the latch clicked and the door slowly swung open - of its own accord, for Peldath was sitting in the corner, hugging his legs. I wondered what had happened, but I was certain his summons had been answered by another creature, for I could see it from where I stood: he was utterly and completely insane. He rocked back and forth, a line of drool issuing from the corner of his mouth. His eyes were utterly blank save from the tinge of madness. It was obvious. He had been confronted with another creature and defied it - and suffered the consequences. But what creature had he enraged so? As I sat down beside him and he said that one sentence he would repeat endlessly to this day, even in the fetid dormitories of the asylum, I realized by whom he had been smitten. The one phrase he kept repeating over and over was one I, being a librarian, recognized instantly: "Oh my! Bet ye weren't expecting me!"


End file.
